Itsy-Bitsy...
by Kate C. Massery
Summary: Darien is snooping around in the lab and realizes with much horror that he is not alone...Just a stupid, random attempt to get a laugh. Short and sweet.


Author's Note: A humorous little thing written in honor of an unwelcome visitor that decided to stake a claim on my bathroom. Hope someone finds it funny.

Silence: calm, quiet, refreshing after a long day's work. Most of the lights were off, and there was no sound at all except for the gurgling of the fish tanks and the idle rattle of a rat in its cage. And then there was a dull swish, followed by a muted bang as the large metal door of the lab swung open and then closed behind a tall, lanky man who stood for a moment of quiet reflection in the center of the room, hands shoved in his pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, having made a decision, he strode confidently over to a metal desk by the wall. Flicking on a lamp, he folded his long frame into a small, metal chair. There was a manila file folder in the center of the desk, and with a mischievous grin the man flicked it open with nimble fingers. The pages were all in a neat stack, their corners all perfectly aligned…carelessly he began to riffle through them, spreading the pages in unorganized little piles while a few fluttered to the floor unnoticed. 

Four pairs of eyes regarded the man with an air of indifference, cool and aloof, content merely to watch and wait while he was intent on the thin, white bits of paper in his hands. Then, prompted by instinct that would not let it remain further from its home than necessary, the four eyes blinked in tandem before allowing themselves to be carried at a slow, creeping pace across the desk. The man did not notice them, and their speed quickened as they began to cross one of the silly, pointless pieces of paper. But then the man's elbow jostled the page, and the eyes found with dismay that the rest of their body was losing its balance. There was a faint skittering sound as four pairs of legs slid against the paper. The man's head jerked up, eyes widening a little as he stared about him warily. Then a flash of movement caught his eye, and he glanced down at the page at his elbow. With a loud shout he pushed himself away from the desk.

Emboldened by this reaction, long legs, crooked and bent, carried the eyes across the white paper while the man reeled backwards, tall upright body swaying and jerking in his haste to back away. One of those ridiculously long legs caught on the side of the chair and the man wavered, arms wind milling about his head, and then crashed to the floor with a horrific clamor; the chair came with him. He mumbled something darkly as he rubbed his head, but the four pairs of eyes took little notice. They were intent instead on the crack in the wall, barely visible above the corner of the desk. It was halfway across another sheet of paper, the crack growing steadily larger, its web just beyond, when the man clambered to his feet and made a leap for a Kleenex box set on top of a file cabinet. The box bounced against the concrete floor as he dropped it in his urgency, then he dashed back over to the desk, brandishing a clump of Kleenex in his hand like a weapon. The four eyes paid it no mind. It was only more silly white stuff. The man bit his lip as his hand hovered uncertainly in mid air. Then he closed his eyes and brought his hand down with a bang. Opening them cautiously, he slowly lifted his hand and turned over the wad of Kleenex, just to see…Three pairs of the legs were now unnaturally flattened, while the last pair stuck up into the air in a desperate sort of last-minute truce. The man flinched at the sight and dropped the Kleenex onto the floor next to the box. 

Quickly the man crossed the lab to a metal cart with a tray of instruments on top that had been wheeled into a corner. Lifting up a pair of long tweezers from the tray, the man approached the ball of Kleenex lying innocently on the floor with trepidation. Using the tweezers, he gingerly picked up the Kleenex and headed for the trashcan underneath the desk, not noticing the dark smear that had been left behind on one of the white sheets of paper. 

Just then a woman entered the room, the metal door sliding open with a clang as she passed through then stopped in the center of the concrete floor, a perplexed and semi-amused expression on her face. 

"Darien, what are you…?" She asked, eyeing the man who was heading for the trashcan with mincing steps, the wad of Kleenex pinched tight between the prongs of the tweezers. 

"I _hate_ these things!" the man exclaimed as he dropped the Kleenex into the wastebasket. 

"And what did Kleenex ever do to you?" she inquired, a tiny, impish smile turning up the corners of her lips. 

"Creepy little bastard," the man continued, staring down into the trashcan as if he expected it to start inching along the floor under its own power. "All those eyes…watching me…as if I don't get enough of that already."

"Darien? What are you doing?" the woman asked again, growing more and more curious. The man glanced up at her, his cheeks flushing an embarrassed crimson. 

"Aw hey, Keep," he mumbled. "Just taking out the trash," he added as he lifted the trashcan and stalked out of the room, holding the can out in front of him as if it were some kind of explosive device primed to explode. The woman blinked a few times in puzzlement, then shrugged and walked over to the desk by the wall. 

"I didn't leave this light on…" she said softly, gazing at the desk lamp. Then she glanced down at the manila file, spread open, the papers inside jostled and out of order. She pursed her lips as she began to sort through the file, quietly mumbling something about thieves who never put things back the way they found them. Then she noticed a large brown stain smeared across one of the pages and she lifted it up to the light, a look of disgust on her face, but there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes at the same time. Taking the corner of the page between her fingertips and holding it out in front of her in mimicry of the man with the trashcan, she crossed the room and slipped past the metal door. "Oh Darien," she called sweetly, her heels click-clacking on the floor of the hallway. The door closed behind her, but not before there was a strangled shout from down the hallway, followed by the clang of a metal trashcan bouncing off of a hard floor. 

"Claire…That's not funny! Claaaiiireee!" And then silence reigned in the lab once more. 


End file.
